


moving on (and going back to you)

by Toxic_Essence



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Stephen Strange, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Not A Fix-It, Post-Canon, Sad, Stephen Strange & Wong Friendship, Stephen Strange feels, Suicide, Tony Stark Feels, like very very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:42:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24660988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toxic_Essence/pseuds/Toxic_Essence
Summary: Stephen's been having a really hard time coping with Tony being gone.He decides to join him.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 9
Kudos: 61





	moving on (and going back to you)

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags and be careful reading, this actually gets pretty heavy.  
> -  
> it's 3am and this idea just popped up out of nowhere and I decided to write it out. continues a bit in the end notes  
> my tumblr cause why not: @empyrealvoid

The fog sat low over the ground and the water, though where some may have found it eerie and dreadful, Stephen only found serenity in its calm, almost comforting nature. The sun was just barely rising above the horizon, meaning Stephen had quite sometime before its light would breach the top of the mountains surrounding the lake, signalling to the rest of the world that it was time to get up and start a new day; to try again and hope that things would finally get better.

Stephen was tired of trying. Christ, was he tired of it. 

Getting out of bed every day had suddenly turned into one of the hardest chores he's ever had to do in his life. It didn't matter if he got one hour of sleep or ten, his limbs always felt heavy and his soul felt like it had been drained of every last bit of its energy. So he started going without sleep whenever he could, distracting himself with books and throwing himself at every single mystical threat that presented itself. He knew the people in his life were concerned, but that didn't matter much when the "people" consisted of Wong, Christine, and Tony. 

One he saw on a daily basis, one he spoke to very infrequently, and one was laying six feet under in the grave before him. 

_Anthony Edward Stark_

_May 29, 1970_

_-_

_April 26, 2023_

The tombstone itself somehow managed to be the plainest object in the world despite its subtle intricacies and delicately elegant nature. There were no other words on the stone, as everyone had felt that it was simply impossible to find the right words, and enough of them for that matter, to describe the man that had been Tony Stark. 

So there the man lay beneath the bank of the lake, finally resting after so much time spent giving, and giving, and _giving_ to people who did nothing but take. Hell, the man had given his _life_ for a selfish universe that had done nothing but sit on the sidelines and throw torment after torment his way.

With a soft sigh, Stephen gently set the flowers he'd been holding down atop the dewy grass of the grave. Red and yellow roses, with a single black rose in the middle. Anyone else would've seen the colours of Iron Man and thought nothing more of it, but to Stephen, it was a bouquet of words unsaid, spelled to last forever and remain unsaid for millennia to come. A bouquet that existed as a reminder to everybody and nobody except for two lost souls that had lived lives that were, in the grand scheme of things, the most influential ever, yet of little importance to the universe, no, the multi-verse itself. 

_I love you,_ it said. _More than anything. More than I ever thought possible. We had so little time together, but in that time, you became my heart, my love, my best friend, and my reason to keep going._

_I've lost you._

_I'm coming to find you again._

Stephen remained quiet. He took in his surroundings, enjoyed the peace of the morning, and banished all thoughts of how he'd never have another. He'd spent the whole night going through those thoughts, using the quiet hours to contemplate what had and what could've been. His reflections brought back some memories that Stephen wished he could live in for the rest of time, and others that he had tried so desperately to rid himself of. 

_Cold water, red eyes and throats sore from screaming, slamming doors, grinding metal, Dormammu, pain, so, so much_ pain, _so many futures, so many deaths, Tony-_

Shaky, aching hands had written finality on paper that would be received by Wong once his heart stopped beating, while a racing mind remembered the days immediately following the aftermath of Thanos' demise. Stephen recalled his quiet return to the New York sanctum after the funeral, Wong following and repeatedly trying to make sure he was alright. He had quietly dismissed Wong, telling the man that he was fine, before shutting himself up in his room for a week straight, desperately searching for a spell that would successfully erase his memories of Tony. He had found one, but it hadn't worked, the genius's memory etched too deeply into his mind, into his _soul,_ to be fully erased. The few memories he had managed to erase were easily brought back at the very mention of Tony Stark. 

Stephen supposed it wasn't a bad thing at the end of it all. His memories of the man were what brought Stephen back to him after all.

The sorcerer stared out over the lake, watching and waiting as the sky brightened with the rising sun. _Not much longer now_. He brought two fingers to his lips, before carefully reaching out and resting them on top of the gravestone. He stood like that for a few seconds, longing and guilt and regret and so many more emotions all warring inside of him, tugging at his heart and pulling his mind apart.

The sky brightened more. Stephen moved away from the gravesite and stepped towards the water. Carefully, he removed his shoes and set them just out of reach of the water. He slipped off his sling ring and tucked it inside one of the shoes. He took one last look at the world around him before he started walking forward, bare feet disrupting the once still water of the lake as he waded deeper and deeper, finally moving to start swimming out towards the middle of the area. His hands ached, and his clothes (his casual wear, not his robes) fluttered out around him uncomfortably, but comfort was the farthest thing from his mind at that moment. 

He slowed as he reached the middle, fog surrounding him, the cold water cutting through to his bones. The ground, at least 20 feet below him, was about to become his final resting place. Stephen stopped kicking his legs, and let the water claim his body as he sunk under. He willed himself to take a breath, adrenaline filling his veins as water filled his airways. He fought the urge to start swimming again, to resurface and breathe in actual air. 

_'It'll be over soon,'_ he thought to himself. He wondered if this was how Donna had felt all those years ago, trapped underwater all alone, fighting for life.

Except Stephen wasn't fighting. He was done fighting. He was done with everything.

He closed his eyes as his mind became static.

**Author's Note:**

> Stephen woke up on the embankment of the lake, except instead of being alone this time, Tony sat cross-legged next to him, eyeing him up with an unnaturally stoic expression. 
> 
> Stephen felt lighter than he had in years. It felt as though he was in his astral form, but this time he had nothing anchoring him back to the real world. He was finally free. 
> 
> "Tony?" He whispered, looking at the man he hadn't seen in years.
> 
> Tony's stoic mask broke at the sound of his name, sorrow filling his eyes as he observed Stephen sadly. Stephen knew what Tony was thinking, but he had no regrets about what he'd just done. 
> 
> "Good to see you again, Doc."


End file.
